Page 19 of Worst Hand Wins in Deadwood

“Do. Not. Ever. Call. Me. That. Again!” I growl.

Jason blinks as if my reaction is a complete surprise to him. Is he really that stupid?

“Alright, alright.” He sips casually on his coffee. “I don’t want to rile you up. I thought you invited me here to discuss other matters.”

I tilt my head. What is he playing at? “Other matters? Like Kiley? Why did you talk to my mechanic at all, Jason? What I do with Kiley is none of your business.”

“He said you are trying desperately to salvage that old junk of heap you call a car, and I was just trying to do you a favor. You really need to move on, Maribeth. Your mother is dead. You need to let her car go, too.”

My fists squeeze into balls. Granted Kiley is a 2004 Kia Sephia that my mother previously owned, but I love her. I just cannot trade her for another car unless I know it truly is the end for her. “No! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” I scream. “We broke up. You screwed me out of everything I owned. We are done! Why in the—” I swallow. I’ve gotta get a grip. Slowly I begin again. “Why are you here, in Deadwood, really?”

The self-satisfied smile on his face taunts my temper, but I have got to keep it under control.

“I told you. I would appreciate” —he speaks slowly, as if I am a child and cannot fully understand— “you helping me out, this one last time, so I can start my own business.”

My jaw hurts. I didn’t realize I was gritting my teeth so, so hard. I swallow. “That’s all?”

“Of course, that’s all.” He laughs. “What else could there be?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, Jason. Who knows with you?”

His face softens, he blinks as he reaches across the bar to touch my hand. I snap back from him as if he were a white-hot fire poker.

He looks hurt. “I swear. Help me do this, and you’ll never see me again, if that’s what you want.”

I sigh. “Itiswhat I want.”

“Okay.” He breathes the word as if he is completely defeated.

“Look.” I turn away from him to go into my bedroom where I have the envelope of money I was going to give Kate. A rapid succession of pounding on my front door jerks my attention and I rush to it instead. “My goodness, what?” I say as I open the door.

Blaze is breathless. “Hey…, I was wondering…” His eyes focus over my shoulder. He repositions himself to lean on the door frame, casually, appearing apathetic. “If I could, uh,borrow a cup of sugar.” He shoves his way in. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize you had company.”

I gawk at him. “Yeah, the Audi in the driveway isn’t any sort of clue. Besides, I saw you watch him come up my stairs. What are you doing here, Blaze?”

He jerks his gaze to me and then back to Jason. “Yeah. I guess I did.” Turning back to me, his pupils dilate. “I just… wanted to be sure you were alright.”

“Hey, look buddy,” Jason slithers off his stool. “Maribeth and I got some things to work out. We don’t need you coming over here” —His eyes slide up and down Blaze’s form— “borrowing sugar or whatever you’re here to do.”

“Now wait a minute—” I try to stop Jason.

“It’s alright.” Blaze held out his traffic-cop-hand to me. “I get where you’re coming from, Jason. There’s just one flaw inwhat you say. You see, Maribeth’s no longer your fiancé. In fact, she’s no longer your… anything.”

My eyes dart to Jason. His face flushes bright red. I know that look. He’s about to explode. It’s not that I don’t think Blaze can handle Jason’s temper, I think I’m more afraid of what Jason will cause Blaze to do that’s gonna leave Jason hurting. Not that I didn’t want to punch Jason in the face, myself. It’s just that I’m pretty sure if Blaze were to punch him in the face, it will break every bone under his fist.

Would Blaze get in trouble for hitting a civilian? Would Jason get in trouble for assaulting a police officer? Oh, this is about to turn into a terrible mess and I’ve got to stop both of them. I lunge myself between them, putting my hand on each man’s chest. “Now, boys.” I use my best Sunday-school teacher voice.

Blaze backs away from me. Jason takes a step toward me which is toward Blaze.

“This is none of your business, pretty boy.” Jason spits the words like a cobra spits venom with crack-shot accuracy. “You been trying to get in my girl’s panties ever since I got here.”

“Now, wait a minute!” I interject. “Who I let in my, uh, panties is none ofyourbusiness, Jason.” Now my temper is screaming like a tea kettle. “I am notyourgirl. You made that very clear in court when you took me for everything I had. The only reason you came to Deadwood, saying you wanted me back was because of your wanting money for that new business…” I swallow a knot of fury back, trying to keep my cool and make Jason understand. “Look, if you swear you’ll never come here again, I’ll give you the money.”

“What?” Blaze steps forward. “Maribeth, don’t.”

I swirl to look into Blaze’s eyes. My arms, to touch both men’s chest, are now with bent elbows. Pleading with Blaze silently to let me handle Jason. It’s not his nature to step aside, Iknow. A tempestuous storm is brewing in his now greener-than-ever orbs. His pupils are flaring with anger. I want to throw myself into his arms and smother this fiery fury with kisses, but Jason is standing just one step away from me.

Something comes over Blaze, something deep from within him. Years of being on the police force and dealing with wacked-out druggies, perhaps. His eyes reflect a transformation. He swallows. His calm eyes meet mine. “Maribeth, he’s like a feral cat. If you feed him once, he’ll never go away.”

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